


Run To You

by Devilnapped (Lurkylurk)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Also an Ending, Comic Influences, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lucifer knocks on heavens door, Mentions of blood and injuries, Michael and Lucifer have a talk, Michael is not how you probably think he is, New Beginnings, Post-everything, Silver City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurkylurk/pseuds/Devilnapped
Summary: All he wants is to see her one last time. How dare He take her from him like this?





	Run To You

**Author's Note:**

> Because Chloe ending in Hell sucks, Lucifer ending in Heaven sucks, and I’m not even gonna think about the ‘Lucifer becomes human’ ending... so here it is, my own view of the end.

 

“Let me see her.”

Pain slices through his broken wing as Lucifer drags it across the pristine marble, staining it red.

Blood runs down his arm in rivulets. Blood in his eyes, tinting the Silver City red. Blood, as red as _hers_  as she lay lifeless on the ground, because he was too late to save her.

Blood, blood, blood, and piles of ash around him. A touch of Hell in Heaven.

“You should not have come here, Brother.” Michael. The only one refusing to hurt him, the only one with regret and sadness in his eyes and voice, anything but the pity and disdain of the others. Twin. The other half of the Demiurge. Creation and light. Once, he was the Matter to Lucifer's Will shaping it.

Now, the only thing standing between him and his desire.

“Let me see her!” Lucifer roared.

Michael shakes his head, a wistful smile gracing his usually stoic face. “You know I can’t do that, Lucifer. Turn back. I did not want to do this the first time, and I do not want to do this again.” His hand never leaves the pommel of his sword. Yet, he alone refused to charge at Lucifer as soon as he broke through the gates in a blaze of fire, unlike the other poor little angels that felt his wrath. “Please, do not force my hand.”

Lucifer scoffs and drags himself closer towards the entry of the Garden where _she_ must be; Michael stands taller in front, gripping the pommel tighter.

“What is it you hope to gain? Even if you were to see her—she cannot leave, and you cannot stay,” Michael speaks. Lucifer halts and swallows, hard. Blood, even on his tongue.

“I—I need to see her. One last time. I wasn't even with her when she—when _He_ took her away, the coward,” he spits, vitriol dripping off every word of his father, “He took her from me! _Why_ —”

“I know it hurts, Brother, but—”

“You know _nothing_!” His voice cracks at last. Salty tears shake loose at his outburst and burn the cut on his face. Michael recoils as his eyes flash with hellfire, but he starts again, softly, his voice thick with unused emotion.

“I _know_ , Brother, because you have been taken from us just as sudden.”

Lucifer laughs. “Now that's a good one, Mikey! Have you been practicing your jokes? Your humor used to be non-existent if I remember correctly.” Of course he remembers. He remembers everything, and it hurts.

“Enough, Lucifer. It’s true. Do you think it was easy for us? Do you think we rejoiced after you were gone?”

“I was hoping for a millennial celebration at least. You know, with songs about my glorious defeat and fireworks writing ‘happy 384th fall of Satan’ in the sky,” Lucifer mocks, but his brother ignores him.

“The Heavens fell silent, Lucifer. Eons, without a single hymn, mourning the loss of our brothers and sisters. There are many of us who still miss you.”

Lucifer's manic grin falls, as do his eyes, the fight visibly draining out of him.

“Gabriel, Raphael, Cassiel,” Michael recites, “Zadkiel, Jehoel, Phanuel. But Azrael it hit the hardest; you were always her favorite. She even tried to speak against father in your favor.

“And _me_ , Lucifer. You are my other half, how could I not miss you? My Gift is supposed to be mercy, yet I was not allowed to show you any of it. It hurt me just as much.”

Lucifer's legs fold and his raw knees hit the cold ground. For once he stays silent, afraid of choking on the sob stuck in his throat. He had imagined what it would be like to see his brother again many times over the centuries; he had imagined bloodshed, fists and hatred. Anything but this.

Another boisterous angel charges, young and stupid, hoping to earn glory in the eyes of their father. These fledglings never even knew him, except from stories used to scare them obedient probably. He was tired of fighting—so, so tired.

Michael bursts forward, sword and golden wings gleaming. The lower angel, shocked at crossing swords with his commander instead of cutting into the Adversary as planned, stumbles back. More angels flock and close in with drawn weapons.

Michael, now the only thing standing between him and his Fall back into the pits. Oh, the irony.

Lucifer tilts forward, ready for his face to hit the ground, but instead of the hard landing he expects he is met with something—someone—soft and warm.

Her soul—he would recognize the light of her soul anywhere. Chloe.

Bloodied hands wrap around her, holding her to him and burying his face in her middle. She is here, in Heaven. She left her own little Heaven and came to see him.  _Chloe, Chloe, Chloe._

“I’m here Lucifer, I'm here,” she soothes, gently stroking her hands over his bloodied head and through his messy hair. Did he say her name out loud? “I'm sorry I had to leave without a goodbye. I tried to stay a little longer, I really did.” The sob in his throat broke free. Distantly, he registers Michael shouting at the other angels to cease the attack and leave, but still the sharp clank of metal against metal is loud in his ears. He clutches Chloe just a little tighter as her hand runs gently up and down his cramping nape and back.

“No more fighting,” she whispers, “no more.”

“No more,” another booming voice agrees, the sound drilling through his entire being in its intensity, in a way he missed and loathes at the same time. Father.

And his world turns dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

—x—x—x—x—x—x—

 

 

When he opens his eyes again there is nothing but blackness and void, except for her bright soul, still in his arms.

And in her he feels a spark, a spark he hasn't felt since the dawn of time, a spark of creation.

She smiles at him, and so he takes that spark, like he did when he was still the Will of the Demiurge, and he takes it and nourishes it—

 

And he let it be light, just for them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Inspired by Pentatonix' song Run To You. Check it out if you like.
> 
> Some of this might make more sense if you are familiar with the comics, but I hope it was good either way. Michael snuck into this fic without my permission, and I can't write him without comic influences hehe, I tried.
> 
> I wrote this pretty much in one go, and I haven't finished writing anything for years so I'm super nervous about posting this. 🙈 
> 
> Please tell me what you think if you like. See you soon, hopefully!


End file.
